


When you call my name

by LeFay_Strent



Category: Sanders Sides (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Fluff, M/M, and they were ROOMMATES, moxiety - Freeform, slowburn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-11-19
Updated: 2018-11-24
Packaged: 2019-08-26 01:29:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,838
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16672186
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/LeFay_Strent/pseuds/LeFay_Strent
Summary: Patton and Virgil are college roommates. Their personalities are incredibly different and it shouldn't work, but somehow it just does.





	1. Chapter 1

A blank document. A slab of white against an endless void of emptiness. Curser blinking mockingly, unmoving for drawn-out minutes. 

Patton stares at his computer until he goes cross-eyed.

How long did he have to wait before his paper wrote itself?

“ _Virgiiiiil_ ,” he whines, slumping sideways in his chair and spinning to face his roommate. Across the room Virgil lays on his back with a knee up, eyes closed and headphones crooning out music in his ears, and yet he hears Patton. He always somehow hears Patton.

“S’up?” he says, letting Patton know he’s listening.

“Words are _hard_.” Patton injects as much emotion as he can into it, just so Virgil knows exactly how much he is struggling.

Virgil, having heard this same phrase every other time Patton is forced to write a paper, has his usual reply already prepared. “Just drop out then.”

And breaking away from the usual script, Patton rolls along with it this time. “Mm, okay! Sounds good.”

It takes Virgil a full two seconds before his eyes pop open. Before Patton can even blink, he’s lurching up in his bed, yanking his headphones down with one hand and pointing at Patton with the other. “Wait, don’t do that! Don’t listen to me, I’m a bad influence. What are you doing?”

Patton giggles, “Aw, now I know you say that negative mumbo jumbo about yourself, but in the end you can’t help but show how much you care.”

Virgil frowns, rolling his eyes. “Not that I’m agreeing with you, but what’s you’re point?”

“Just that you really are a good influence on me and would try to stop me from making bad decisions. I appreciate what you do for me, Virge.”

That makes Virgil cover his face with a hand. To the untrained eye, he only looked exasperated, but Patton knows he’s just embarrassed. “Sounds fake, but okay. You keep telling yourself that and I’ll be over here, _not_ caring what you do with your life. Because I don’t. Care about you that is. Like at all.”

“You know what you sound like? Like one of those tsunami anime girls who say they don’t care but they actually do care a lot.”

“. . . you mean tsundere?”

“Gesundheit.”

Virgil groans and flops backwards, bed squeaking slightly as he lays back down. “Fling me into the sun. That’s all I want in life right now.”

Patton rests his chin in a hand, watching the other with a closed-lipped smile. He’s closed his eyes once more but hasn’t replaced the headphones back over his ears. Which means Patton can prolong writing his paper a little more with the perfect distraction.

“ _Pst_ . . . _pssst_ , hey Virgil.”

“. . . yeah?”

“I stayed up all night searching for where the sun went. Then it dawned on me.”

Virgil snorts, immediately throwing a sleeve covered hand over his mouth. Pride warms in Patton’s chest. He loves it when he manages to make his roommate laugh, as it isn’t often that he does. But when Virgil manages to forget himself and relaxes a little, his laugh is really something. His voice in general is wonderful. Patton can only imagine how it’d sound if Virgil sung—

“Virgil!” Patton exclaims, flapping his arms in the air.

Too used to his outburst, Virgil takes it in stride with a somewhat tired sigh. “Yeah Pat?”

“You should sing for me!”

Virgil raises his finger, almost like he’s about to agree that Patton has a point, only to declare, “Nuh,” and letting his hand fall back down.

“But I’ve never heard you sing before!”

“Because I don’t.”

“But it doesn’t mean you _can’t_. Therefore, you should!”

“Pretty sure that’s some flawed logic there. Also, why does this seem to matter to you so much?”

Patton drenches his voice in adoration. “Because I think your voice is pretty.”

Virgil takes in a noticeably large breath, chest rising and falling slowly, air exiting out his nose in a great _whoosh_. Patton scoots his chair towards him an inch or two. “Eh? Ehh?”

“Nope,” Virgil responds, crushing his hopes and dreams. “Never gonna happen.”

He tilts his head in consideration. “Is it because you’re nervous about how you sound?”

“Among a million other things,” Virgil mutters, which actually makes Patton worried for a minute, but Virgil continues on like he didn’t say anything. “I just don’t sing. Period. But if it means that much to you, I can recite some lyrics in a lukewarm fashion.”

“Who is Luke and why is his fashion warm?”

“Pat focus. I meant I can say it in my normal tone, which doesn’t get much beyond a dead-inside monotone. Now take it or leave it.”

Patton weighs the pros and cons of pressing the issue of Virgil singing. He also debates with himself over whether to call Virgil out on his self-deprecation again, because his voice is not dead-inside monotone. More like a “I just rolled out of bed, my voice is cute and rumbly”. That would probably be a little too much for Virgil, if Patton said that aloud. Plus, he doesn’t want to push the other past his comfort zone.

So in the end, Patton takes what he can get.

“Can I pick the song?” he asks.

Virgil shrugs, the motion made awkward by his lying position. “Sure, as long as I know it.”

Immediately, Patton blurts out, “Life is a Mystery!”

“. . . you mean the Madonna song, ‘Like a Prayer’?”

“Yeah! That one!”

“But . . . _why_? Why _that_ one?”

Patton shrugs in a “what can ya do” gesture. “It’s just the first thing that popped into my head.”

Virgil just accepts it. It goes to show just how used to Patton’s ways Virgil is, because at some point, you just have to accept the randomness that is Patton.

“Okay then. Ready? ‘Cause I’m only gonna do this once.”

Patton sits up straight, nodding emphatically.

“Great,” Virgil says and clears his throat to begin. “ _Life is a mystery_ —or so they say. _Everyone must stand alone_ —I guess. _I hear you call my name_ —I think? _And it feels like . . . home_ —kinda.”

A bubble of laughter escapes Patton at the vague add-ons. Encouraged by his amusement, Virgil continues.

“ _When you call my name_ —which you should stop doing. _It’s like a little prayer_ —kind of cultish really. _I’m down on my knees_ —help I’ve fallen and I can’t get up. _I wanna take you there_ —if I’m going down, you’re going down with me.”

Virgil goes through the rest of the song like that until Patton claps his hands together in admiration. It’s enough to make Virgil cover his face. “Don’t applaud that, that was the stupidest thing I’ve ever done. Remind me why I did that again?”

“Because it was great!” Patton reassures. “You know, if singing’s not your thing, I think you could do poetry slams. Ooh! Or maybe become one of those audio book people! How do you sign up for that? I think your voice would be really great for it!”

“That’s it, I’m going to sleep. You go work on your paper,” Virgil growls and rolls over, back facing towards the rest of the room.

“Wait, Virgil!” Patton cries, arms raised even though Virgil can’t see him. He doesn’t say anything more than that, simply waits.

Long beats of silence drag on until finally . . .

“Yeah Pat?” Virgil asks softly.

“. . . help me work on my paper?”

Virgil doesn’t answer immediately, but he does look back over his shoulder to stare at Patton who is giving his sunniest grin. To influence him further, Patton makes grabby hands, waving him towards himself.

Heaving a deep sigh, Virgil succumbs. “If it’ll get you to stop complimenting me, fine, whatever.” He gets up to drag a chair over by the desk.

“But you know I only ask for your help because you’re so smart and all,” is what Patton thinks about saying. But as Virgil settles down next to him, Patton notes the tint of red to his face.

He’s embarrassed the kiddo enough.

For now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I literally told myself I would have Patton blurt out the first song I thought of and roll with it. I am not disappointed.
> 
> If y'all liked this, I do have more of this universe planned out, so let me know if I should continue.


	2. Night Light

Patton wakes up in the dead of night to a tiny light shining across the room.

 

It’s not the first time this has happened, and most of the time he doesn’t say anything. He’ll lay there watching Virgil on his bed, most of his body shrouded in darkness except his face. Sometimes Patton will sneakily slip on his glasses for a bit to watch the other, because this is Virgil when he thinks no one is watching. This is Virgil when it’s just him and his phone and every expression comes easy. Something akin to wonder fills him as he watches Virgil, face free of make-up, lips tugging up in a half-smile as his eyes glimmer in delight at whatever he sees on the screen.

 

Tonight, Virgil isn’t smiling. It doesn’t look like he’s remotely looking at his phone either, more like staring into the distance above the device. There’s no tension in his shoulders or creases in his brow, but there’s something about the way he’s slumped back into his pillow, eyes blinking slow and heavy.

 

Patton makes a show of stretching, groaning a little and half sitting up. Virgil snaps to attention, his posture and expression more purposeful now.

 

“Good morning,” Patton greets, voice soft from sleep. “Reeeally early morning. Everything a-okay over there?”

 

“Uh, yeah,” Virgil answers quietly. Suddenly the light is gone as he pushes the phone against his chest. “Did I wake you up? I can turn it off.”

 

“Don’t you worry your dark little head. I don’t mind the light,” Patton is quick to reassure. He really does mean it. If he’s tired, Patton can usually sleep through pretty much anything. Not to mention that sometimes not even his alarm clock can wake him up. Sometimes Virgil has to shake him awake, though every time Patton apologizes, Virgil shrugs and says, “I was already awake anyway.”

 

Which makes Patton question when Virgil actually gets any sleep. Patton’s the first to bed and last to rise most days. And there are plenty of times during the day he finds Virgil laying on his bed, eyes closed and headphones on. Lots of times Patton assumes he’s taking a nap, but every time he gives a tentative, “Hey Virge?” he always receives a, “Yeah Pat?”

 

Maybe Virgil’s just a light sleeper.

 

Or a vampire. That would explain a lot. Patton would totally support his vampire son.

 

Wait, his mind is wandering. Virgil is just staring at him.

 

“Sorry, think I was falling asleep there,” Patton admits sheepishly. “What about you? Can’t sleep?”

 

“Uh . . . yeah, I guess?”

 

“You don’t sound too sure.”

 

Patton can’t really see much detail of Virgil, just enough to know that he’s still sitting there staring at him. The low hum of the air conditioner fills the air. If Patton focuses on it, the sound could lull him to sleep, but the longer Virgil doesn’t respond, the more awake Patton feels.

 

“You want to talk?” Patton finally offers, unable to do nothing.

 

“Talk about what?” Yes, there’s definitely a defensive trace there. It’s a little odd, to be honest. The whole time Patton has known him since they first became roommates, there’s always been this aloofness about Virgil. He tended to avoid speaking unless spoken to, and for the first month Patton was sure that he was annoying him.

 

Patton is extroverted and talkative, a fact that he’s sometimes painfully aware of. It can . . . really hurt when you’re caught up in excitement and talking about something and you start to notice the tired look in the other person’s eyes as they politely wait for you to stop. Or sometimes they don’t wait and cut you off, telling you to leave them alone.

 

It didn’t make him mad. If anything, Patton should have paid attention to the signs, not have been so intrusive, given them space instead of being so clingy.

 

But it had been so hard to judge Virgil. With how quiet he was, Patton took it upon himself to initiate most conversation. Because maybe Virgil just found it hard to. Maybe he wanted to talk about things but just couldn’t find the words until prompted.

 

“We can talk about anything you like,” Patton says, hoping that his tone comes across as light and open as he intends. “It doesn’t have to be about anything in particular. We can just talk about anything.”

 

Virgil doesn’t say anything at first. Sometimes he’s like that. Sometimes he lets Patton go on for long lengths of time, either gushing about a cat video or telling him all about a phone call from his grandmother. And sometimes Patton would catch himself, falling silent and glancing at Virgil expecting to find him scrolling on his phone, having long-since tuned him out.

 

But Virgil paid attention. Every time.

 

“. . . why?” Virgil eventually asks, as if he’s asking why it matters that Patton wants to talk to him.

 

Those times Patton would stop to look up, their eyes would meet because Virgil had been watching and listening and giving him something so simple yet so important. Virgil might be quick to look away, not much for maintaining eye contact. Yet every time Patton prompted him directly, Virgil gave his response willingly and like it didn’t cost him a great amount of effort to do so.

 

Patton snuggles into his pillow and smiles into the dark. “Because I like talking to you.”

 

Virgil’s incredibly different from himself and not quite like anyone he’s ever met. His dark, strange roommate avoids talking about himself, and Patton hardly sees him interact with anyone or do much outside of their dorm other than go to class. With the way Virgil always dresses in black and wears headphones and walks around like nothing in the world can get to him, he’s presented himself as this mystery that Patton wants to uncover. So every time he does uncover a tiny piece of the Virgil puzzle, he gets excited.

 

Again, Virgil takes his time to respond. Patton expects him to deflect with his usual self-deprecating humor (which Patton doesn’t understand at all because Virgil is so cool!). Or it’s likely that Virgil will reply flippantly, roll his eyes and remind Patton that he should go to sleep because he has class tomorrow.

 

But more often than not, as their days go by together, Patton is surprised by how much Virgil humors him and goes along with whatever he suggests.

 

“. . . if you wanna talk, I’m not going to stop you,” Virgil says, almost succeeding in sounding casual. He’s not opened the door completely, but he’s left it cracked, allowing Patton in a little.

 

“Want to know a secret?” Patton dives right in. Virgil hums, so he continues. “I used to sleep with a night light.”

 

Virgil snorts. “You and a lot of people when they were kids.”

 

“No, I mean even when I became an adult. Up until I began college and started living on campus, I’d sleep with a night light.”

 

It isn’t something he’s ashamed of, and he doubts Virgil is the type to laugh at such a thing.

 

“Why’d you stop then?” Virgil asks.

 

The both of them are juniors, meaning that Patton had had a couple of roommates before Virgil. Before that though, Patton had grown up as an only child raised by his grandparents. He had never needed to share a room with someone before.

 

“It bothered my first roommate, so I didn’t use one. I didn’t _really_ need it to sleep. I just liked it, ya know?”

 

It’s not that Patton was ever terribly afraid of the dark. He could sleep without one. But whenever he’d briefly wake up in the night, it’d calm him to see that little light glowing in the corner of his room, making him feel safe enough to fall right back to sleep.

 

“I guess . . . I guess that’s why I don’t mind when you stay up on your phone,” Patton says. “You’re like a night light.”

 

“I thought you were supposed to be scolding me for my terrible sleeping habits, not condoning them.”

 

“Hush kiddo, we’re having a moment here.”

 

Virgil chuckles, making Patton laugh as well. Then he surprises Patton by saying, “Ya know, we could get you a night light.”

 

Patton lifts his head up, grinning. “Really?”

 

“Only if you want.”

 

“But it wouldn’t bother you?”

 

“I wouldn’t have offered if it did.”

 

“In that case, why stop there? We can string the whole room in Christmas lights!”

 

“No thanks, I’m allergic.”

 

“Half the room? My half of the room!”

 

“But the light would still shine into my half.”

 

“I could pin them to the wall in the shape of a kitty!”

 

“ _Patton no_.”

 

They argue playfully back and forth before Patton inevitably submits and agrees that one small night light will be enough.

 

But when they go to the store to purchase one the next day, Patton gives Virgil puppy-dog eyes until he caves.

 

They’re not in the shape of a kitty, but Patton still gets his Christmas lights.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You demanded, I delivered.
> 
> I really relate to both of these boys, I love them so much. But something I think is fascinating and what I'm coming to realize about this universe is that Virgil (in this AU at the very least) is the sort that doesn't seem outwardly anxious. That's why Patton thinks of Virgil as the kind of person who "walks around like nothing in the world can get to him" and I think it's kinda hilarious because all the while Virgil is internally screaming and overthinking every little thing. But Patton will come to see that there's a lot more to Virgil, just like we see here that there's more to Patton, like his self-awareness that he can be too much. Sometimes not everyone likes a bubbly character like him, and that has caused him some heartaches in the past.
> 
> Ah, but anyway. I'll continue more on this, flesh out this world a bit as our boys grow closer. Any suggestions on what their majors could be? I'm all ears.
> 
> Btw, come check out my tumblr if you want. https://lefaystrent.tumblr.com/ I'll be posting content there too and I'd love to try out some prompts from people.


End file.
